Back To The Gallery
by HergeAddict2013
Summary: Story for my Ill friend! When Ib's daughter visits the gallery with her, she finds she knows too little.


Back to the gallery

"Come on Alice!" I trudge along, dragging my feet on the stony ground. This is not how I wanted to spend my day, walking to some boring art gallery. The paintings there aren't even that amazing, I hear. My mother is fascinated with one of them. A changing painting, so the story goes, it's there one instant then gone the next.

I glance at the older woman who stands beside me. Her name is Ib and she is my mother. Her long brown hair reaches past her shoulders and she wears a red bow in her hair. I look nothing like my mother. My black hair forms a pixie cut and my green eyes hold a piercing glare.

One thing is for certain, it's very plain for an art gallery. White paste walls frame the outside features, the only colour seems to be the peeling brown paint on the door. I can feel myself pull a disgusted face. Ib smiles at me, then proceeds to lead me inside.

It's like I'm three again, cowering behind my mother. Then I regain my maturity and stand up straight, I'm only just taller than my mother, so we often get the remark, that she is the child and I am the mother.

"Come On Alice! I want to show you the painting!" I smile, I love it when Ib's like this, so happy and filled with glee. It's like the remarks and comments come true.

The artwork seems somehow to appeal to me, different people, different interests,

And then I come across something that stops me dead,

A young man, looking the same age as me, rope hung around his neck and his legs are limp. It is, just a painting, but it feels too real to be fake. His eyes are a deep blue and they pierce into me, making my whole body feel uncomfortable. I resist the urge to try and help him, he is colours on a simple canvas, nothing more and nothing less.

"Alice, what're you-"There is a short silence as my mother's eyes flicker to the painting. Her smile fades just as quickly as it appeared.

"Get away from it! Now!" She pulls on my arm, dragging me in the opposite direction. I struggle and try to get a closer look. 'The Hanged Man' is all the plate says. One word forms in my mouth and I don't even know how I know it.

"Garry!"

Ib lets go of my arm and I stumble forward. What was that? I could feel somebody calling to me, shouting**my** name. That word had rung in my head, until the urge to shout it out became too strong. Ib looked so angry, like I had just revealed a dark secret, one that should never be told.

"Heheheheheh. Hahahaha!" Her laughter becomes demonic and I step back, what's going on? This isn't Ib, this isn't my mother.

The dark brown hair begins to lighten to a subtle shade of light blonde, her brown iris's change to blue. A green dress slowly forms around her body.

"Mom…Who are you?" My bewilderment is overwhelming. The hanged man now seems, to my amazement, to be stepping out of the painting. The rope marks are still visible on his neck. I look from one to the other.

"Come on Alice, let's be best friends, mother and daughter," The girl says, even though she looks much younger than me. The young man, on the other hand, just looks at me, as if willing me to make a choice. I shake my head and stand by 'The Hanged Man'. The girl eyes darken. She takes a threatening step towards us, and then runs away, like a child.

"Mary… Always such the child…"

My eyes were wide open, and my accomplice, 'The Hanged Man' smiles at me.

"You Okay?"

"Garry…That's your name, right?"

"Indeed it is Milady, and what might yours be?"

"Mh. Alice, I don't have a very good name."

"I think it's beautiful."

"No offense, but aren't you…" I gulp, not wanting to finish my own sentence,

"Oh, I am dead…Just undead," He laughs and soon I join in, I haven't laughed in a long while. We both look at each other, the atmosphere is so subtle. His coat is torn and I poke a finger through the hole in his pocket.

"It's…meant to be like that Alice,"

I nod and take his hand. We begin to search for the exit. We go back to the gallery foyer but the doors do not move. I sigh and lean against him. This is going to take forever. The white walls are now dripping with black paint.

Taking lefts and rights begins to get us bored. My heart begins to beat slower and slower, until there is ten seconds between each beat. The disturbing paintings become blurry, until they are just a mass of colour.

"Garry?"

"Hm? Yes Alice?"

"I…c-can't see properly,"

"Your rose must be running out of water, can I see it?"

"What rose? I don't have one,"

Garry's eyes widen and he leads me to the closet, it's too cramped and my back is soon pressed against a broom handle. I grit my teeth as Garry shakes me.

"You don't have a rose!?"

"N-No! Is it important?"

"Of the utmost importunacy! One must always have one's rose at her or his side,"

He sounds like an instruction manual or a broken record. I shake my head, trying to prevent the broom handle from pressing too far into my chest. Then a sound stops us both.

"Alice? Where are you? I want to play…"

"It's Mary, Oh God," Garry whispers and before I know what's going on, the door swings open, revealing Mary's face. She looks even more demonic than when I first met her. In her hair, is a red rose and I stare at it, confused.


End file.
